Fate, Surprises and Dessert
by koalakid1
Summary: Craig Dean has a problem. It's his boyfriend's birthday, but what can he do to celebrate? A short romantic snapshot into the life of John Paul and Craig in Dublin.


Craig Dean had a dilemma. He drummed his fingers on the windowsill, gazing out of the window as though it might give him inspiration. With his other hand he picked out a mint chocolate from the selection box that was his original plan. It wasn't as if he'd never celebrated a partner's birthday before. What was so different about this one? It had been easy with his previous girlfriends – he'd buy a piece of jewellery or two and take her out to the cinema, or a restaurant maybe. But this was different. Chewing contemplatively on the chocolate, Craig tried to imagine his boyfriend with a glittering pendant around his neck, or better still jewels hanging from his ears. The thought made him snort out loud and nearly choke. Composing himself, he made a mental note to tell John Paul later. At least he knew how to get a laugh out of him… But no, he needed a proper present. Craig remembered the time he had given John Paul a watch that had once belonged to his granddad. But the circumstances were not ones he particularly wanted to remember and besides, John Paul still had the watch. It was senseless replacing it and the meanings with it. No, he needed something completely original, unique, something personal to him. To them. He'd sent John Paul out of the house for a round of birthday drinks at the pub, making the rather feeble excuse that he had 'stuff to do'. He hoped the drinks would hold out because right now, he was getting nowhere. From the corner of his eye he saw a rabbit hop across the small stretch of garden. He reached for another chocolate and then got up, turning away from the window and wandering towards the sink.

There was a pile of dirty dishes and pans from the morning. He supposed he'd better do them before John Paul got back. A wonderful birthday surprise that would be – no present, no party but lots of dirty dishes. He started running the tap then turned to the table to pick up a pair of half-finished mugs of tea, but failed to judge the distance. Tripping over a chair leg, he fell forwards, into the table, one hand knocking one of the mugs. The cold tea splashed everywhere, soaking a magazine that lay on the table. Swearing loudly Craig picked himself up, and the mug, shaking tea from his hand. Picking up the magazine to do the same, he suddenly froze and stared at one of the titles. 'Cheap holiday ideas: Coast to Coast in America'. Something stirred in Craig's mind from a long way back. He seemed to recall one of the very first proper conversations he had ever had with John Paul. He'd forgotten until now. Returning the magazine to the table, he turned back to the sink just in time to stop it overflowing and dumped in the mugs. Now he had a smile on his face. His fortune was looking up. But as he scraped the remains of scrambled egg from the wok, his face fell a little. It was all very well having a present for John Paul, but he couldn't very well just leave it at that. A pair of tickets to America wold be guaranteed to impress him but the excitement would soon wear off. Craig needed something else to celebrate properly. He immediately thought about the countless cinema trips and hotels and meals he had done for past girlfriends. But then that was the thing – he'd done that all before. It would just be like another date with another partner with nothing to mark it out as remotely special. Throughout washing the dishes he thought about it, but nothing came to him.

When he'd finished, he headed to the fridge to feed his whirring brain. There was certainly food for thought. Everywhere. The fridge was so crammed full of food it looked fit to burst. Craig checked the cupboards. The same. He couldn't ever remember buying so much food. Well surely here was the solution. It wouldn't be the same as going out for a meal – none of the clichés of going out on a typical movie-style date. He could make it unique, their own private party. He was grinning again. Fate was on his side today. Now all he had to do was choose something from the mass of food to make for dinner. He reached for one of the cookbooks on the shelf, and after blowing a little dust off the cover, flicked through the pages. There was so much choice. The recipes themselves did look rather daunting, but Craig wasn't fazed, priding himself on his skills as a master chef. Suddenly something fell out of the pages onto the floor. Craig picked it up and looked at it. It was a flyer for some buffet at a fancy restaurant. It was out of date by nearly half a decade but that didn't matter. Craig knew exactly what to do for John Paul's birthday surprise. Just the odd extra ingredient and something to decorate the flat with and he was sorted. He went over to the table to grab his wallet. He could hear the sound of next doors kids playing. He heard the thwack of a bat and ball. Glancing out at the garden he saw that the rabbit was still there, and fate gave him one last brilliant idea. With that he grabbed his wallet and with a new bounce in his step, headed out of the house. He was on a mission.

* * *

Three hours later, John Paul McQueen opened the door to his house to be greeted by a rather pleasant smell. Heading towards the kitchen he soon found the way barred. Craig stood, arms folded, a mock frown on his face.

"What time d'you call this?"

"Barely seven o'clock!" John Paul protested. Craig's frown turned into a grin.

"Only messing!"

John Paul tried to get past Craig again.

"A-a-ahhh" He stopped him again. "You shall not pass!"

John Paul raised an eyebrow. "What have you got up your sleeve?"

Craig made an elaborate show of looking up his sleeves. John Paul rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's rather unique sense of humour.

"Actually" Craig continued "I have something for you!"

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised! It is that special day after all!" He handed over a small, red envelope. "Happy Birthday!"

"Craig–"

"Well go on then! Open it!" John Paul did as he was bidden and after breaking the seal pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He frowned slightly, trying to figure out what it could be. After scanning the page, he discovered that it was a receipt for the purchase of two first-class plane tickets to America in August. John Paul's eyes lit up and he was rendered almost speechless.

"Oh Craig–"

"A-ah! You can thank me later! Now for the next one. This isn't really proper… just for old times' sake." He looked a little embarrassed. Craig handed him a lumpy package and John Paul proceeded to open it. He stared at the soft toy rabbit in his hand for a moment without recognition. He looked up at Craig.

"Don't you remember? We never finished our game…" John Paul looked from the rabbit to Craig and back at the rabbit again. And then suddenly it dawned on him.

"Bunny cricket!"

"Yup!"

"Ha! I can't believe you remembered that!"

"I remember every minute we ever spent together"

"Oh Craig, this is–"

"Now, one more thing! That's all! Magic!" John Paul opened his mouth to say something, but Craig was already waving him arms around in the air in some sort of ritualistic dance. "I've done this once before I'm afraid to say, but this time, it'll be much better!" Out of nowhere it seemed, he produced a long, dark piece of cloth. On closer inspection, John Paul could see it was a scarf. "Tadaaa!" Craig walked around behind John Paul and before he could say anything in protest, Craig had covered his eyes with the scarf, tying it at the back. "There you go!"

"Craig…what on earth…!"

"Shhhhh! Just be patient!"

John Paul could feel himself being guided through the door and into the living room-kitchen. The pleasant smell got stronger and John Paul felt his stomach rumble as Craig gently pushed him into a chair. "Sounds like someone's hungry!" Craig crowed "Good thing because…" He continued in his best French accent "I 'ave a selection of zee best food you will ever 'ave tasted, 'ere for your sampling Monsieur!" John Paul chuckled.

"Isn't presentation an important part of cooking…"

"No!" Came the rather hurried answer. "I mean, 'non'. It's all about zee taste! Any great chef will tell you zat!"

"Right…"

"Not being able to see zee food gives you–er–a less distracted…experience of…eating…" He ended lamely, his French accent slipping.

"I see…you haven't burnt it have you?"

"Oi! Don't question my rules!" He lost the accent altogether.

"Alright, alright! But I don't have to wear this the whole time do I?" He indicated the scarf.

"Yes!"

John Paul groaned.

"Just shut up and sample my first dish!"

John Paul heard the clunk of a plate being placed before him and a moment later a knife and fork were pressed into his hands. Holding the plate with one hand, he made a stab at the nearest thing he could find on the plate with his fork and brought it gingerly to his mouth. John Paul chewed the morsel carefully, and then smiled.

"Told you so!" Came Craig's smug comment. John Paul said nothing but with much more enthusiasm, proceeded to attack the rest of what was on his plate.

* * *

John Paul finished the last pork chop with relish. He licked his lips, pushed away the last plate then leaned back and let out a long satisfied sigh. "Delicious. But I seriously can't eat any more." He reached up to take the blindfold off.

"Just one more thing…" Craig insisted, although there was no more food.

"No, seriously Craig, I'm stuffed. I literally–"

"One more! I promise you won't regret it"

"Alright, one more" John Paul sighed again, resigned to his fate just as Craig leaned towards him and laying one hand very gently on John Paul's cheek, he brought his lips to John Pauls in one, tender kiss. When Craig finally pulled away, he saw a new smile on John Paul's face that no amount of holiday tickets or food could bring.

Craig let out a breath. "There. All done. Any questions?"

The sides of John Paul's mouth nearly touched his ears. "Is there anything for dessert?"

**The End**


End file.
